


False Promises Bring False Hope

by AnastenLights



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Survivor Guilt, deadly mind games, locus is just following orders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnastenLights/pseuds/AnastenLights
Summary: Locus needs information.Wash just needs more time.





	False Promises Bring False Hope

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bad Things Bingo!  
> Prompts: Tied to a Chair, Survivor's Guilt, You Said You'd Let Them Go

“ _Why_?” The ex-freelancer’s voice cut through the air, fresh and painful. Wash hadn’t spent much time with the Reds, having been with the Blue Team for the most part during his time with the Sim troopers, but from the way Sarge and Donut, the two Reds who had also been captured with Wash, had collapsed against the ground upon arrival, things could definitely have been better. The ship they’d been on had crashed suddenly, leaving the rag-tag gang of space marines stranded on what they had originally supposed was an uninhabited planet. Then… just after they had fixed the radio transmitter, they discovered just how wrong they had been.

The planet’s other inhabitants, it turned out, were split into two factions; a warring duality of ideals led by individuals with strikingly different ideas of how the planet should have been governed. And _Locus_. Felix had warned them about him. He himself had said that Locus was nothing more than a killer -a monster. _A tragedy waiting to happen_. Now, strapped to a chair in a room miles away from wherever Felix had taken the rest of his friends, Wash was going to experience it all firsthand.

* * *

Everything had gone straight to hell shortly after Locus showed up, and then, when the reinforcements from the New Republic had arrived to aid Felix, well. Somehow everything just got even _worse_. Wash remembered being injured fairly early on in the battle. Tucker was shouting at Felix, angry, and Felix responding in that icy tone of his that “ _not everyone gets to make it out of a war alive, Tucker._ ” He had seen Sarge hit, and Donut run over to help his fallen commander, and knew- _Felix was right_. Not everyone makes it out. Wash certainly wasn’t. _Not this time_. It didn’t look like Sarge would either. But if he could make sure the rest of them got out safely, got out alive, it would all be worth it.

“Freckles? _SHAKE_.”

Wash could see Tucker watching from the cave entrance, fighting with Felix to get out there, get to Wash. He could see the moment when the aqua soldier realized what Wash had done, just as the behemoth machine raised its foot in response to Wash’s command. By then it was too late, and the rocks were already falling. Tucker was safe. Caboose & the Reds were safe. That was all that mattered.

He remembered attempting to walk through the battlefield to where Donut knelt by Sarge, but the moment of adrenaline had long passed, and he staggered. A gun to his head and a strong kick to the gut soon found him lying on his side, looking up at Locus from the grass. “Stay down, Agent Washington.” The mercenary had warned. “Any resistance and one of your friends will get an extra shade of red on their armor. I don’t think you need me to explain what I mean by that.” Wash grunted. He hadn’t counted on Donut staying behind, but it was too late to do anything about that now. They had lost.

Locus had instructed his men to take them aboard his ship, where they were transported to a remote location elsewhere on Chorus. With two of them injured, and Lopez having been once again reduced to nothing but a disembodied head, there was little resistance from the captives.

* * *

Back in the present, still only a few days after their capture, Wash finds himself bound to a chair. His limbs have been bound, arms tied together behind his back. His armor has been taken from him, leaving the former freelancer in nothing but the kevlar body suit he wore underneath the armor. Sarge and Donut are chained to the wall to his right. They look more than tired. A lot has happened in the past few days, none of it pleasant to remember. To his left, Lopez is placed on a pedestal as some sort of sadistic idea of a trophy.

“ _Why_?” He asks again, his throat parched and his voice cracking from lack of water  & nutrients. It had been how long? A couple of days? He was beginning to lose track of the days. Everything seems the same when you’re trapped in a room without a window. “You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Agent Washington.” Locus says, walking over to him. “I need that information, and as far as I’ve been told, you’re the only one left alive who knows the full story of what happened to Project Freelancer.” He glanced over at the two Reds. Sarge tried to look defiant, but it was painfully obvious the stress was getting to him. “What if I told you, if you agree to give me the information I need, your friends will be free to go?” There was no telling if the statement was truthful or not- everything Locus did was calculated, carefully thought over to minimize risk or chances of failure.

“And if I don’t?” Wash asked.

Locus fired his gun, the bullet hitting the wall directly between Sarge and Donut. Donut let out a shrill almost-scream and attempted to move away from the spot as far as the restraints would allow. Sarge grunted, still glaring at the green-clad mercenary. He looked almost disappointed. “I doubt I need to clarify what will happen if you don’t agree to help me Agent.” Locus lowered his gun but kept it in the general direction of the Reds. “I expect an answer when I return.” With that final note, the mercenary left, leaving behind a grim silence.

Washington struggled against his restraints, but to no avail. Whoever had tied these must have been an A+ Boy Scout, because the knots were fucking unbreakable.

“Hey, Wash?” It was Donut. Wash had always been impressed by the pink marine’s resilience and had more than once been surprised by Donut’s insane courage and bravery. This, however, was not one of those times.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll think of something.” After all his years as a Freelancer it was easy to overlook the false bravery in Donut’s eyes. _He’s worried about Sarge_ , Wash realizes.

“We’ll be fine,” Sarge chimes in. The old soldier’s eyes told a different story: Make sure Donut is alright. “No, stop, both of you just- I’m sure there’s a way.” For once, Agent Washington, the Ex-Freelancer, has no plan. No way out of this. “I’m going to get you both out I just need to-”

The door opens. _Too late._ Locus always made sure to come at random intervals, to avoid giving the prisoners any sense of how much time had passed at any given moment. “Have you made up your mind yet?”

_Fuck_. _“I didn’t think he would be here so soon,”_ Wash mutters under his breath. He looks over to Sarge  & Donut. They’re still telling him no, to not give in. _Don’t tell him anything!_ Donut doesn’t say it aloud, but Wash gets the message. _I’m sorry guys. I won’t let my teammates die because of me- again._ “I’ll do it.” He looks away, focusing on the ground. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” _If it means they’ll live, I’ll gladly give myself up to the enemy._

For a brief moment, Locus doesn't do anything. Then, he pulls out his gun, and-

The next few moments are a blur, all happening in rapid succession of one another and for a moment Wash isn’t sure what is happening. A gunshot, then Donut screaming, the pink on the kevlar now flecked with crimson, blood oozing from the fresh wound. Sarge yelling. Wash shouting, angry and struggling to free himself. It’s no use. All he can do is sit, helplessly watching as Locus fires more rounds into his friends' bodies. Bloodstains scatter across the floor amidst the chaos, and not long after it all began, all the noise comes crashing to a halt. The screaming, the yelling, they all just- stop, clearing the way for an eerie, foreboding silence. Now, only Wash is left. Alone in a dark room with a monster. “You said you would let them go!” He is screaming at empty air. “Locus!” The mercenary has vanished, leaving a broken husk of a soldier to drown in a sea of emotions. _It’s my fault they’re dead._ **They were going to die anyway.** _I shot Donut before, and now, because of me, he’s actually dead._ **But did you really know them that well? They were _Reds_ for fuck’s sake.** “Locus! I am going to KILL YOU!”

He doesn’t know Locus is standing behind him, silently watching.

* * *

Locus leaves the room.

“Did you do it?” A voice asks through the speaker in his helmet. Felix.

“Yes.” Locus confirms. “Agent Washington is no longer a threat.”

“ _Music to my ears_.” Felix sounds pleased. Locus has never understood his partner’s bloodthirsty nature- he has never enjoyed this line of work. Felix on the other hand...enjoy would be an understatement. “I’ll begin the next phase. Oh, and Locus? _Leave the freelancer alive for me when this is all over will you_?”


End file.
